(06/05/1942) Cyclops

Into a bowl of deepest night it peers
And probes the utmost nature of the vast
Eternal marches of the suns, to cast
With esoteric glyphs the path of years.

Steel forg’d prongs grip fast the adamant
And jumbled crags of charred obsidian
Strew close the base where, twined ophidian
The space washed girders gleam and twist aslant.

And to this rock, this deathbound airless world,
It seems the tomb of gods whose questioned Why
Has stripped them of their lone divinity

Come strange marked men who seek a knowledge furled
In deeper space. Who train this monstrous eye
To gaze forever. On infinity.

Grady McMurtry
6/5/42 e.v.

Originally published in Thelema Lodge Calendar, November 1987